


Every Second Tuesday

by flutter



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flutter/pseuds/flutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Second Tuesday something happens that leaves Oishi and Eiji at a loss. This begins on one such Tuesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Every second Tuesday, like clockwork, Oishi would find Eiji in the clubroom, just as he was putting his things back into the cubby designated “Kikumaru.” A forgotten towel always draped around his neck, his hair still slightly damp, Eiji would bounce on the balls of his feet, shuffling items between his bag and the cubby, seemingly unsure of what to keep or take. And on every second Tuesday, like clockwork, Oishi would walk up to where Eiji stood, his chest mere inches from Eiji’s back. There he would test himself, hold firm and steady in place, practicing the restraint he felt necessary. To keep from ravaging the figure before him, Oishi needed discipline and control. He couldn’t afford to hurt Eiji; not as a fukubuchou to a team member, but as one who loves and treasures to the one who is loved and treasured.

For his part on every second Tuesday, Eiji would pretend he didn’t notice Oishi. From the second Oishi opened the clubroom door, to the moment he sensed the figure behind him, Eiji was aware. The hairs on the nape of his neck would stand alert, vibrating with the sense of urgency to have Oishi near him, next to him, touching him. The anticipation of knowing what would happen cascaded over and through him, which caused Eiji to take a step back into the hard chest behind him. He would then half-heartedly affect a blush and apologetic demeanor. This was always followed by Oishi gripping Eiji’s shoulders in his hands, bending his face to Eiji’s neck, where his lips pressed against softness and warmth. Oishi would breathe the scent of Eiji into his nostrils, into his heart, into the whole of him until the world began to spin, revolving around just the two of them standing there, a bright, golden sun.

Then abruptly, on every second Tuesday, Oishi would let go of Eiji’s shoulders. Without ever saying a word, without ever doing more than what had become a fleeting dance for the two, he disappeared.

The heat of him—the heat that had grown and radiated until it had become a shape reminiscent of Oishi—would all too soon dissipate from the space they shared.  

Eiji would shiver in the cold that remained.

//

This particular second Tuesday, as Eiji steeled himself for the rush of cool air to take residence where Oishi’s heat would soon vacate, something strange occurred.  Arms slipped around him. They weren’t hesitant or tender—instead, their strength was evident. Eiji knew it was from hours of methodical practice meant to support the acrobatic plays he enjoyed making; the arms of a giant in terms of compassion and resolve. He supposed anyone else might be unnerved, or feel trapped, but Eiji felt comforted, then warmed—then ignited. He found himself ever so slightly shifting his weight, his hips rocking a soft rhythm against Oishi.

The arms grew tighter. For the first time among all the Tuesdays they had shared, the silence was broken.

“Stop—Eiji, stop—“

Eiji, brought back to his senses, stilled. Ragged breathing came from behind him. He felt, more than heard, the breath that Oishi tried to draw, and realized that he, too, was breathing heavily against the weight in the air that surrounded them.

Oishi brought his lips to just below Eiji’s right ear, laved a wet circle before nipping the ear lobe. “Friday. My house.” A breath. “It’ll be just us.”

Eiji tried to turn in Oishi’s arms to face him, but Oishi let go and gripped his shoulders to keep him in place.

“Friday. Eiji—tell me you’ll come.”

Eiji nodded, taking a breath to say _yes, anywhere, any day—Oishi!_ but Oishi had already retreated and the door began to close. At the click of the door catching, Eiji sagged to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Wednesday after school, and though Eiji outwardly showed everyone his typical light-footed and cheery demeanor, he couldn’t hide from himself. The nerves in his stomach pulsed, vibrating through the rest of him just enough to put him slightly off his normal beat. If it weren’t for his being on the courts for practice, where he couldnt escape seeing Oishi, he’d feel more at ease, more himself.

A smile plastered on his face, a wave with his racket, an “ochibi!” at Echizen—like normal, like every other practice, every other day. He could do this.

“Oi, Eiji—”

Eiji froze in place. He took a deep breath, smiled wide and turned. “Oishi!”

Oishi’s head tilted just a fraction of an inch, studying Eiji. “We’re on court two. Let’s go!”

//

It was Thursday, lunch. Oishi usually came to find Eiji so they could eat together beneath a tree that faced the tennis courts. The past week had Oishi busy with Ryuzaki and Tezuka, holing up in Ryuzaki’s office, which meant that Eiji was both lonely and thankful. The free moments he had during the past few days gave him room to just _breathe_. He knew where Oishi was, and he could relax knowing that he didn’t have to worry about revealing how nervous and excited—how eager—he was for Friday to come.

His shoes off, wriggling toes in the soft grass, Eiji slipped down the side of the auditorium, his back against the wall so that he could look out at the horizon of trees that edged the school property. He lifted the top off of his bento, surveyed the contents, an _itadakimasu_ forming on his lips.

“Eiji.” His name was barely a whisper.

The chopsticks broke apart between his hands, one in each hand, and he looked up, the shape of Oishi silhouetted against the afternoon sun. His mouth fell open into an awkward smile, his eyes wide.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“N-no, no. Oishi. W-what—?” Eiji floundered, his hands wild as if he were trying to physically brush away the idea of his avoiding Oishi.

Oishi kneeled, looked Eiji in the eyes. What Eiji saw reflected back at him was amusement. Oishi was enjoying this, enjoying that he’d been caught, that he was squirming under Oishi’s stare. That…that _baka_!

“Who knows you better than me?” Oishi reached out, his finger touching the skin beneath Eiji’s chin. He tilted Eiji’s face up and leaned in. Eiji had a fraction of a second to notice Oishi’s eyes had turned serious.

“Eiji…”

The heat of Oishi’s breath, the caress of Eiji’s name on his own lips. Oishi skimmed moist lips against Eiji’s dry ones, flicked the tip of his tongue against the full bottom lip that waited for him.

Oishi took a shuddering breath, pressed his forehead against Eiji’s—”Tomorrow.” It was a promise. A threat? Eiji tried to look at Oishi’s eyes, but he had them closed. _A prayer._

Oishi stood, eyes held closed for a beat as he took a deep breath. Eiji watched him, noticed fists clenched at his sides. A smile spread across Oishi’s face a split second after he opened his eyes and saw Eiji watching him. With the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, Oishi turned and walked away.

Eiji felt the breath he’d held leave in a whoosh.


	3. Chapter 3

Friday morning came. Eiji was sure it wouldn’t, feared it would. Yet here it was, as bright and ready for him as every other morning. He tried to take his time getting ready for school; he was 10 minutes earlier than normal. He tried walking the long way around—taking a scenic route, he told himself—to start the day off right; he had to dip behind a bush near the front gate so that arrives-thirty-minutes-early Tezuka didn’t see him. The same thing continued all day: his least favorite subjects never felt as short-lived; he barely had time to eat his lunch; and afternoon classes all blurred together, Eiji feeling like he never quite sat down in any of his assigned seats. 

Then came practice. Eiji touched the door of the clubroom and time very nearly halted. He felt suspended, hardly able to move. Except for his eyes—his eyes darted left and right, looking for someone. Okay, looking for _him_. 

A buzzing sounded in his ears. He tried to shake the sensation away. It grew louder, and Eiji felt he could almost hear words amongst the _bzzzz_ that circled him. 

_ Sssss. Ssssen. Sssenpai. _ “Senpai!” 

Eiji whipped his head around. 

“Senpai, are you okay? You’re blocking the doorway.”

It was Momo-chan. Just Momo-chan. What was he doing—wait, saying? Did he want something?

“Kikumaru-senpai. You don’t look too good.” Eiji felt more than saw Momoshiro’s eyes scan his face. “You don’t.”

“Ah, Momo-chan!” Eiji smiled, though the fog permeating his entire body remained. “Yes, I’m fine. I—” Eiji’s eyes hurriedly took in the area around them. “I feel great! Never better. Really.” 

Eiji eyed Kaidoh rounding the corner of the clubroom building, coming up behind Momoshiro. “Oi, Kaidoh! I heard that Momo-chan beat you in yesterday’s practice.” It took only seconds for his words to register before Kaidoh said something to set Momoshiro off and the two of them were at each other’s throats.

“That was a nasty trick.” Tezuka. 

Eiji took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a brief second before turning a sheepish grin at Tezuka. “Ah, well—” his words fell away. “Say, buchou…have you seen Oishi around?” Eiji hoped the face he made looked the picture of cheerful innocence.

Tezuka only stood there, arms crossed at his chest, staring down over the rims of his glasses at Eiji. Eiji took a step back and began to turn. “No? Um, that’s okay! I’ll just—”

“He asked for this afternoon’s practice off. Said he had an errand to run.”

Eiji felt oxygen rush into his lungs, his heart pumped a steadier rhythm. The air around him _moved_ and Eiji felt a relieved smile stretch across his face. A hand automatically reached up, combing his hair with his fingers as though shaking loose some dirt.

“His exact words were, ‘I’ve got something I need to prepare for.’” 

The fingers in Eiji’s hair gripped tight into a fist, clumps of hair sticking out between each finger. 

Tezuka turned toward the tennis courts. “You’re missing the beginning of practice. 20 laps.”


	4. Chapter 4

So, here he was, standing in front of Oishi’s house. Finally. Only he didn’t have any real recollection of how he got there. He remembered the clubroom, the 20 laps, Arai somehow taking a point from him, showering and changing, then—nothing. There wasn’t anything between then and when he came to his senses, finding himself staring at the door to Oishi’s house. What was he doing? Had he knocked? Rang the doorbell? How long had he been standing there, stupidly staring at a door?

Eiji raised an arm, his hand forming a fist to rap on the door. It wasn’t too late to turn and leave. But no—he remembered the look on Oishi’s face the day before, knew that whatever this was, or what was going to happen, it meant a lot to Oishi. No, Eiji wasn’t going anywhere but inside.

With what felt like the deepest breath he’d ever take, Eiji closed his eyes. He steeled his nerves, shut away the sounds of the rest of the world, and knocked.

The door felt less firm than he was used to, and decidedly more like fabric. Eiji felt the door expand against his hand as though it were taking a breath. That wasn’t right. His eyes flew open, his vision clearing. Oishi stood in front of him, holding the front door open, a bewildered expression crossing his face.

“You’re here.” Oishi wrapped his hands over Eiji’s fist, trapping it there against his chest while Eiji stared just the tiniest bit up at him.

“Um, yeah…somehow.” Eiji tried to pull his hand free. Oishi only tightened his hold.

The relief at Eiji’s arrival was evident in Oishi’s eyes. He watched Oishi rake his eyes over him, as though checking that Eiji was real and not, in fact, an illusion. If he was a little bit happy, perhaps a touch smug, and a whole lot of confused, then Eiji could deal with that. For now.

“Oishi?”

“Oh! Sorry.” Oishi gave a small bow, dropping their hands but not releasing Eiji’s hand from between his own. “Come on. I’ve got everything setup.” Eiji was pulled inside.

The click of the door echoed behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Here. Sit.” Oishi had led him into the main room after Eiji reminded him that he was still wearing his shoes. Something was definitely wrong with Oishi if he forgot even that much. Seeing Oishi flustered kind of set Eiji right; he felt much clearer, much more calm—until he settled into the small couch and saw Oishi sitting seiza on the floor across from him, his hands folded in his lap.

Eiji looked around the room and back behind where he sat, then listened for other people in the house until he seemed sure it was just the two of them there together. “Um…”

“Eiji.” Oishi had closed his eyes.

“O—”

“Eiji. Do you like me?” Oishi looked at him then, surprisingly unreadable.

“Of course I do; we’re a great team! There’s no one at Seigaku that I’d want to play doubles with more.”

A sigh. “No, that’s not what I mean.” Oishi ran a finger along his right eyebrow. “Do you want to see me outside of school?”

“What do you mean? I already do see you outside of school, like when we play doubles at the park, or when we check out the new shoes—”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean either. I mean outside of school, separate from tennis, not with the other team members or anyone else; just you and me.”

“Oi, Oishi. That sounds like you want to go on a date.”

The silence in the house felt heavy, hanging there around them, so dense that Eiji’s words fell flat and hard between them.

“I’m exhausted, Eiji.” Oishi dropped his head to rest on his left shoulder, then rolled it back to stare at the ceiling above. “We play the same game every few weeks. I thought you understood what it meant. The other day you even—well, you did _that_ , and…”

Eiji’s mouth opened and closed, as though he were miming one of Oishi’s beloved fish and not simply at a loss for words.

“What I’m trying to say…” Oishi scooted nearer to the couch where Eiji sat. “Eiji, what I want to tell you is that—”

Eiji stood, the move so abrupt and forceful that the couch was jerked back in the process. “Um, sorry, but—wait, what?” A nervous laugh started to bubble up into Eiji’s throat, an audible gulp sounded as he tried to force it back down. He moved to the entrance of the room.

“I love you.” He hadn’t shouted it, but Eiji felt as though the words had crawled inside of him, into his chest, wrapped around his lungs, filling his stomach, until the truth of what Oishi had said settled there like a delicious weight. He looked back.

Oishi was no longer sitting; he was on his knees, arms braced on the small table positioned in the middle of the room. He looked nervous, and Eiji noticed Oishi’s hands, spread and pressed into the table beneath them, the whites of his knuckles showing.

Eiji looked closer. He looked at his partner’s hands, his arms, the stillness of his chest. He looked at his chin, his lips, his cheeks, his eyes—his eyes. They shimmered, were worried. Eiji knew what was going on, what had been going on for months; he wasn’t stupid. He had been scared, though. The only times he wasn’t scared were those scattered Tuesdays; but he was always so lost in those moments, lost in the sensations that rippled through him that it never quite seemed real.

So Oishi wanted more? Did Eiji? He did—sort of. It was a lot to handle just once every few weeks; how would they be able handle it more often? All that fire, all that excitement—Eiji completely lost himself in the moment just a few days ago, so how would he fare if that became a regular occurrence?

No, he was better off if they stayed like they were; they were _good_ as they were. Nothing should change. So what if Oishi simply saying his name felt as though his heart cartwheeled in his chest? And who cares if a glimpse of Oishi’s back in the showers, the muscles working beneath the skin as he moved with precision to wash himself free of dirt and sweat, usually had Eiji staying behind a few minutes longer than the rest of the team? That was enough for him. He didn’t think he could survive if he were asked to endure more than he already had to.

“Eiji.”

Eiji’s heart thumped faster and he slapped a hand to his chest in an attempt to keep Oishi from hearing.

“Eiji…say something or I’ll think this was a mistake.” Oishi worried a slicked-back strand of hair out of place.

Eiji shifted his weight.

“Don’t you want more?” Oishi’s voice shook and Eiji’s knees nearly buckled by the rawness he heard in it.

“I—” Eiji started. Faltered. They couldn’t go further than this; it could ruin them, what they already had.

“We won’t change; not for the worst anyway.”

“How did you—” Eiji fell back against the frame of the doorway, floored by the idea that Oishi was somehow inside his head. Which was ridiculous, really, because mind reader’s don’t exist.

Oishi chuckled, sitting back on his heels, head hanging down, and sounding to Eiji both amused and sad. “I’m not a mind reader. Eiji, I told you…who knows you better than me?”

Eiji swallowed, wanting to shove down deep the uncharacteristic worry that crawled up his throat.

“I do.”

Oishi’s head snapped up. “What?”

Eiji smiled. “I do want more.” The smile slipped slightly. “I’m just scared.”

Oishi continued to just look at him, though Eiji was unsure if it was in waiting for Eiji to continue or that he’d been struck dumb by Eiji’s confession.

“I’m scared. It’s hard to admit that, because, well—it doesn’t really fit my personality. I’m ‘hoy hoy!’ and acrobatics; not much can scare me after risking a face-plant into the ground a few thousandd times. But you…you scare me, Oishi, and this thing between us that isn’t tennis and isn’t the team…that scares me too.”

Eiji took a few shaky steps toward Oishi and knelt down so their eyes were level. Oishi shivered at the proximity, drew a breath to speak—

“Oishi.” Eiji placed two fingers on Oishi’s lips, somewhere in his mind noticing how soft they felt and hoping his fingers didn’t shake from the nervousness that shook inside his whole body.

“If we do this, we really do this. You can’t run away if it gets too big.” Eiji dropped his hand, stared at Oishi’s lips, then licked his own. “I won’t run away either.” He tentatively pressed his lips against Oishi’s, heard a quick intake of air come from Oishi, then a crushing pressure as Oishi leaned into him.


	6. Chapter 6

Oishi stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” Eiji placed his hand in Oishi’s, allowing Oishi to drag him to his feet.

“To my room.”

What Eiji saw in Oishi’s eyes made him second guess his earlier confession. Anxiety took shape and he fought to keep his composure as Oishi led him down the hall, through the threshold of his bedroom, one which Eiji had walked through on his own so many times before. It felt so much more important now, as though that room held both secrets and answers. Eiji, unsure he wanted to know either, stopped short of running into Oishi, who stood in the middle of his room, his back to Eiji.

Eiji looked around, wondering if he’d see the room differently after today. It probably wouldn’t feel the same after they do what he thought they were going to do.

Oishi had let go of his hand and, as if they were lacking a job to do now that they were free, Eiji’s fingers plucked at the hem of his shorts.

“Eiji.” Oishi turned to face him and stepped forward so that their bodies very nearly touched. Eiji could feel the heat of him there and it felt so good, so familiar. He knew if he let it the heat could completely engulf him and set him ablaze.

Eiji placed a hand on Oishi’s chest. He didn’t push, and it wasn’t meant to keep Oishi from coming closer; he simply wanted to feel—to test whether it was just him. Maybe if it was the both of them he wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed. Eiji moved his hand in a small circle until he found what it was he was looking for.

Oishi’s heartbeat. It was strong and fast and Eiji could almost feel the beats creep up his arm in a quick staccato. It felt like his own heart kept skipping beats, trying to sync itself in time to Oishi’s.

“Funny.”

Oishi’s brow furrowed. “Funny?”

“How certain parts of our bodies can be so honest.” Eiji smiled and leaned down, choosing to switch his hand for his ear. “I’m nervous and excited and scared—I thought maybe you weren’t feeling these things; you’ve been hard to read lately.”

Oishi slipped a hand into Eiji’s hair. “But like this, ” Eiji said against Oishi’s chest. “Like this I can know the truth…that you’re all of those things too, just like me. “

Oishi placed a hand beneath Eiji’s chin, lifting until Eiji was forced to stand upright. Oishi’s hands crept up the sides of Eiji’s neck, pausing to caress a thumb over the thumping pulse that showed itself, then up into the tendrils of Eiji’s hair. “Eiji…”

“Oishi.” Eiji inhaled and suddenly Oishi was _there_ , demanding access by flicking his tongue against lips that parted for him, tilting Eiji’s head back, dipping into the warmth of Eiji’s mouth. He tried to match Oishi’s movements but Eiji was at a loss. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt like the wind had truly been knocked out of him before but this moment had him scrambling for air.

How could a kiss so completely undo him? How was he going to survive if Oishi’s kiss alone had him feeling panicked?

“May I undress you?” It was a whisper in his ear.

Eiji came back to himself. “Sorry—what?”

“Undress you. May I?”

Eiji paled.

“Okay, okay. Too fast.” Oishi released Eiji and took a single step back, breathing hard, his face pink.

Eiji stared at him, flustered and breathless. Oishi’s lips were swollen, his face was flushed, and Eiji knew he was responsible. They’d done something to each other that made Oishi look so… _inviting_. He felt a tightening low in his stomach.

Eiji spun on his heels and raced out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

He didn’t go far; his legs wouldn’t have carried him much further than where he’d stopped even if he had tried. What were they doing? He got caught up again; he always got caught up when it comes to Oishi and it worried him. What else would he do in the moment? What would he be capable of if he completely let go? What if it’s too much for him or for Oishi? God, if Eiji acted, free of his worries, and Oishi stepped back from what Eiji became, Eiji wouldn’t be able to—

Footsteps sounded and Oishi appeared. Oishi found Eiji standing just outside the bedroom door, half bent over, which was just another drop in the humiliation bucket. Eiji was trying to find composure and now the source of his body’s unruly behavior stood behind him. Oishi’s flushed face and swollen lips kept flashing in his mind and Eiji tried so hard to will his body to stop with the tightening and the pooling.

“Eiji, please. Come back in. I won’t do anything. I promise not to even touch you.” The hurt in Oishi’s voice was so evident.

Eiji stood straight and turned to face the wall. He traced the lines in the wallpaper there. “It’s not that.”

“It’s not what,” Oishi asked.

“I didn’t mind you k-kissing or t-touching me. I liked it. Honest.” Eiji sighed, began to draw out Oishi’s name on the wall.

“But…” Oishi prompted.

“But…it’s embarrassing. I’m embarrassing. I take one look at you and I just—” the hand that scrawled out Oishi’s name now flitted in the air “—you know.”

Oishi stepped toward Eiji; his chest pressed into Eiji’s back, mirroring their stance from all those Tuesdays together in the clubroom.

“Eiji.” He could feel Oishi’s chest rumble against his back, what used to be warmth that would spread through him at this sensation now a wildfire blazing.

Eiji twisted and completely faced the wall, his forehead digging into the space he had traced. “I feel like I’m on fire. Every time you—”

Oishi grabbed Eiji’s hands, slapped them against the wall and pinned him there. Their bodies pressed impossibly close. Eiji could feel the hardness of Oishi pushing against him, rebelling against the fabric that lay between them. Lips pressed against the nape of his neck and Eiji threw his head back as the shock from the contact sizzled down over his back. He bucked against Oishi without meaning to and the hiss that escaped Oishi’s lips may as well have been a croon.

Eiji dug his forehead even harder into the wall, using it for balance as beads of sweat popped up along his brow. He repeatedly stood on tip-toe, then dropped back down again, sliding hard up and down against Oishi until it had Oishi thrusting back against him, pressing Eiji’s hips into the wall. The effect had Eiji biting his lip against the pleasure of pressure coming from both sides.

“Oishi, I— _Oishi_ …”

Oishi stopped and stepped away. Eiji slipped down the wall, not having expected the support of Oishi to disappear so suddenly—or at all.

This is what he feared, what he tried to run from, why he didn’t want to put into words what was happening. He did too much, felt too much, and Oishi must have realized how wanton a person Eiji really was. _No, no…not this._ Eiji didn’t want this fear to take any more shape than it had. _Please don’t let this become reality. I already can’t go back._

Oishi spun Eiji around and looked at the sight of him—the worry, the tears ready to spill, the protrusion so lovely in its vague shape.

“Right.” Eiji had but a second to parrot back to himself what Oishi said before he found his view completely filled with Oishi’s backside. He had, in that single second, been thrown over Oishi’s shoulder and he could only watch as he was marched back through the threshold, Oishi’s leg kicking the door closed behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

“You know,” Oishi said as he kissed into Eiji’s neck. “I never quite got the point of these things.” He snapped the leg of the bike shorts Eiji still wore. The shorts he’d worn over them had been discarded before Eiji could catch his breath after being hosted over a shoulder.

“Oi! Now listen here—” Eiji pushed up from where Oishi had tossed him on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. A stray lock of hair had made its way into the middle of his forehead and he swiped at it impatiently, leveling a glare at Oishi.

Oishi laughed, which made Eiji’s eyes narrow even more. His hands went up in surrender. “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disparage the importance of your very”—Oishi seemed to be choosing his words carefully— “fashionable choice in undergarments, Kikumaru-sama.”

Oishi was making fun of him but Eiji couldn’t really think of anything to say in retort. They were plenty fashionable, but it’s not like they were underwear. Not that he could _say_ that, but for lack of anything better to say: “They aren’t under—”

“Shush, Eiji. Who cares? They’re a hindrance, so let me remove them.” Oishi ran his hands up Eiji’s legs, his fingertips glancing off the bulge that pushed against the fabric. Eiji watched him bend his head towards that spot and he fought to not thrust his hips up to meet Oishi’s mouth.

Oishi looked up at Eiji from his position, making certain that Eiji was watching him, then slowly slipped his mouth over the head of Eiji’s cock through the fabric. He laved wide strokes down the length—down, much further down—until his mouth settled over the round expanse of Eiji’s balls. Oishi nosed them lightly, then sucked the fabric and Eiji up into his mouth, rolling his tongue over what he could fit inside. Eiji muffled his voice with the back of his hand, the other hand fisting the sheets of Oishi’s bed until not just his knuckles but his whole hand speckled white and red.

Oishi released Eiji, slid his cheek against the wetness he’d left behind in the fabric, then thumbed the waistband. The fabric wore like a body glove, perfectly shaping around Eiji like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination. He tugged gently against the resistance the fabric supplied, caressing every spare bit of flesh he could reach as he released Eiji from the shorts.

Eiji couldn’t watch anymore; the sight of Oishi doing these things to him, knowing what he’d probably do next—there’s no way. If he watched he’d come right away and then it’d be over. He closed his eyes.

That turned out to be a mistake.

With his eyes closed all he could do was focus on the sensations that ran rampant through him. He felt every ridge of Oishi’s hand, every hot breath Oishi panted out, and then the squeeze Oishi gave the base of his cock—then nothing more than that. Eiji waited a minute then reluctantly opened his eyes. What he saw before him was Oishi, eyes wild, mouth parted, hovering above him. When their eyes locked, Oishi plunged downward, taking as much as he could of Eiji’s cock into his mouth, and Eiji fell back, his hands immediately rushing to grip Oishi’s head.

Eiji felt a kind of frenzy tornado inside of him. He’d never felt this before. Given the size of his family there wasn’t much in the way of alone time, so even his solo pleasures were limited. Never before had he imagined something could feel like this. That this was being done to him by Oishi, well—he may have imagined it once, but Eiji could only compare it between watching a video of a gymnast performing an aerial then successfully being able to experience that brief moment of suspension, nothing between you and the ground but air.

Except this was better; oh, it was so much better. Eiji couldn’t muffle himself any longer, his moans escaping in huffs as his breathing came faster. Oishi never stopped watching him, just awkward and increasingly longer strokes up and down the length of him. Eiji knew if he didn’t stop him—didn’t stop Oishi from tightening his lips around Eiji’s cock and _looking_ at him while he did so—that it would be the end of him.

“O-Oishi. Me too.” Eiji colored at the sound of his voice, the way he sounded like he was begging, but he didn’t care. He really didn’t want this feeling to ever end, but this moment should be good for the both of them. It was with reluctance that Eiji pushed against Oishi’s shoulders so he could free himself from Oishi’s mouth.

“No fair, Oishi.” Eiji tried for playful but sounded petulant to his own ears. He tried again. “Play fair. I want to too,” and he motioned at the very obvious state of Oishi.

Eiji, completely immersed in the idea of pinning Oishi down, locked his legs around him, tumbled to the right and off the bed, taking the pair of them to the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

Staring down at Oishi beneath him, Eiji grinned. Not one of his every day smiles, or one of the many trembling ones he’d worn since arriving at Oishi’s house—no, this was a megawatt, ear to ear, having the time of his life with his best friend, heart full and leaping with joy, kind of grin. And with those feelings racing through him he leaned down and placed a kiss on Oishi’s full mouth.

It was hard and quick; and before Eiji could compare his first attempt with that of the ones Oishi initiated, Oishi’s mouth split into a smile and he beamed up at Eiji. If Oishi could look at him like that then he must have done okay.

Oishi reached up and Eiji caught the sneaking hands in his own, pinning them above Oishi’s head. He leaned down for a kiss that he hoped was softer, less rough. He tentatively touched his tongue to Oishi’s lips, the way Oishi had done earlier, and Oishi’s mouth parted beneath his. Eiji pulled back, studied Oishi’s lips, the bit of teeth he could see, and the dark void beyond. He explored the space between with his tongue, felt the lips, the teeth, pushed further and carved wide circles as he explored until Oishi’s tongue met his. Eiji felt himself getting swept away; he could kiss Oishi forever now that he’d had a rhythm established and figured out the bit about how to breathe.

He remembered what he’d been meaning to do and broke the kiss. Oishi, eyes closed, sought Eiji’s lips to continue where he’d broken off, but Eiji only crooked a smile at the face he was being shown.

Eiji slithered down Oishi’s body, growing excited at the way their bodies met and fit together, worry niggling at the back of his mind. The thought kept trying to creep in. It wasn’t like he’d ever done this before, so he hoped he didn’t make Oishi mad, cry, or forced to lie out of kindness and pity. He would just have to try his best. He’d do what Oishi did; that felt really good, so that should be fine. No bike shorts, though.

Face to face with the button of Oishi’s shorts, Eiji hesitated. It was kind of awkward, wasn’t it? Did he just do it nonchalantly? Was there a sexy way to unbutton somebody’s clothes? They should teach this kind of thing in school. The image of Ryuzaki-sensei popped into his mind and he squeezed his eyes tight against the image. Maybe it was something best left to personal discovery.

Eiji stared down at the button, the zipper…he placed a hand over top of where Oishi’s length strained against the cloth. He wondered what it would be like to take that into him. His hand cupped around the fabric, smoothing out the faintest of wrinkles, using them as an excuse to move his fingers against Oishi. He could feel the body under his vibrating beneath his touch, a thrill coursing through him knowing that he was the one making Oishi tight with tension and desire.

Eiji thought nothing of plucking open the button now. The zipper fell away next, and the first layer between him and Oishi was gone. The only thing that kept Eiji from skin contact was the scrap of briefs, revealing a difference in length and girth between them. Eiji skimmed his fingertips beneath the top of Oishi’s underwear, one of them catching on the head of Oishi’s cock, causing Oishi to suck in a quick breath. Eiji’s instinct was to pull away but Oishi’s hand was fast, tightening on Eiji’s elbow and keeping him from severing the contact.

“It’s okay; it’s okay.” Oishi repeated. “It’s just…no one else has ever touched me before. I didn’t know”—he bit his lip—”I didn’t know.”

Eiji kept silent, waited for Oishi’s grip to loosen, then took a bit of the briefs in each hand. He pulled until Oishi was completely exposed. Oishi, glorious Oishi. The skin there blushed darker than Eiji’s and he could see a drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip. He softly brushed a finger over the drop, put it to his mouth and tasted what dragged wet across his finger. He tried not to make a face. It was stronger than he’d thought it might be, but it was better than anything he’d ever been forced to drink at practice. He nodded to himself, concentrating. He could do this.

Looking up at Oishi, meeting the storm that raged behind the depths of those eyes, Eiji gripped Oishi in his hand. Oishi bucked hard against the fist, a choked gasp escaping. All sound seemed lost as Eiji took the head into his mouth and slid down.

It was wide and impossible. Eiji licked his palm and slicked it against the saliva he’d already left on what he could of Oishi’s cock. His hand slid—up and down, down and up—while he paid attention to the bit of Oishi he could manage with his mouth. His tongue roamed, his mouth sometimes slipping over the top, gently sucking with each drag back up. When he noticed that Oishi whimpered each time his tongue met the underside of the head, Eiji paid close attention. He lapped long lengths from where his hand started, up and up and up, swirling his tongue across the top, his hand pumping, his tongue beginning its path anew.

“Ei-Eiji—” Oishi shuddered, brought his hands up and fisted Eiji’s hair in them. “Stop. I don’t want to…not yet.” His hips bucked hard but Eiji kept licking and pumping, turning his attentions to just the head, bobbing up and down, making everything slick, slicker, wet, until Oishi was crying his name, until his body vibrated, up and down, up and down, sucking, sliding, wet, so wet, and Oishi’s cries were so sweet, Eiji’s name, only Eiji’s name, and Eiji felt Oishi tighten in his hand, felt Oishi pump his hips in quick succession, one last long drag, one last flick of his tongue, and Oishi was undone.


	10. Chapter 10

Eiji collapsed next to Oishi on the floor. The pair of them panted in unison, Oishi with his arm flung across his face. There was something in the breaths Oishi exhaled that Eiji couldn’t quite make out. He turned to his side and looked at what he had done to his best friend.

A sheen of perspiration glittered on Oishi’s skin, his hair shockingly out of place. Something stirred in Eiji as he took in the mussed hair and he swallowed hard over the lump that formed in his throat. His eyes fell to Oishi’s mouth, where the lips were parted, a strange huff sounding. Eiji leaned closer, angling his ear toward Oishi’s mouth. He couldn’t quite make it out. Maybe Oishi was broken. It just sounded like a lot of “Ei…Ei…Ei…” over and over.

Oishi’s tongue passed over his lips.

“Thirsty?”

Oishi gave a curt nod, his arm still hanging dead across his face.

“Hoy, hoy!” Eiji jumped to his feet, grabbing the nearest pair of shorts he could, which turned out to be Oishi’s, then bounded out of the room. He entered the kitchen, one hand clutching at the waist of the shorts to keep them from falling off his narrow hips. Eiji grabbed a glass from where he knew it would be and turned to the water faucet.

He couldn’t believe it. The glass full, he set it aside, then relived the last few minutes in Oishi’s room. He did that to Oishi! Oishi was worn out and rumpled and _hot_ ; and Eiji did all of that to him. His insides felt like he would burst. He needed to shout, cheer, jump; he spun in a circle, his arms high above him, eyes closed, beaming a grin at no one and everyone.

“Forget about me?”

Eiji spun around, knocking the glass into the sink. “Oh!” Eiji turned to make sure the glass hadn’t broken, the movement jerking away the last of the fabric’s resistance, Oishi’s shorts falling to Eiji’s ankles. He stood there, frozen, baring his ass to Oishi in the middle of the kitchen.

The room was completely silent. Eiji looked over his right shoulder at Oishi, cheeks burning pink and eyes wide in shock. He received no consoling words, nor was Oishi muffling laughter. What Eiji saw was Oishi completely focused on his bottom. Eiji had seen Oishi mull over his responsibilities, the serious looks he’d have when he concentrated on a task to the point of tunnel vision. This was like those times. Oishi was transfixed. The blush from Eiji’s cheeks spread to his ears and down his neck.

“Oiiishiiii.” Eiji didn’t stomp his foot but he may as well have for the whine he’d just let out.

Oishi stepped up behind Eiji, traced a finger over the dimples in Eiji’s lower back. Eiji sucked in a breath as goose bumps broke out over his skin. Both hands now, palms flat against Eiji’s skin. They skimmed down and over the cheeks of Eiji’s ass until Oishi’s index fingers curved under and met the tops of Eiji’s thighs.

“Oishi.” No response.

Eiji’s fingers dug into the countertop. He leaned forward, shifting some of his weight onto his hands; the movement pushed him further into Oishi’s palms and Eiji felt as though he would melt from the heat that radiated through them.

“Oishhh—”

Oishi knelt down, pressed his lips into the roundness of Eiji’s right ass cheek, the thumb of his other hand skimming circles over the left, gripping and separating. Eiji knew this was weird, and was maybe something he should stop, but each time Oishi touched him now it sent shivers of electricity cascading through him, and over him, and he couldn’t do anything but feel.

Oishi just looked now. When Eiji tried to move he felt Oishi’s arm snake up his spine, applying a light pressure until Eiji bent forward. That arm slipped back down, then around Eiji’s side until the hand had Eiji in its palm, testing the hardness there.

“Oh…” Eiji slapped a hand against the counter at the contact. He would never get used to it; he vowed to never get used to it. He always wanted to feel like it was the first time, and—

Oishi gripped each cheek of Eiji’s and pulled them apart. Eiji’s head snapped up just as Oishi’s tongue left a wide, wet path over the puckered pink hole that he’d exposed.

“OH!” Eiji threw his head back, instinctively trying to pull away from Oishi’s mouth but one of Oishi’s hands reached up between Eiji’s legs and gripped the base of Eiji’s cock.

The sensation too much, Eiji pulled back from the hand that hold of him, only to be met with the feeling of Oishi’s tongue grinding into him from behind. Eiji thrust his hips forward, trying to shift away from that devilish mouth, only to find that he was pumping himself into Oishi’s hand.

All he could do was whimper as he pumped and thrust and rocked and shivered. His knees threatened to buckle, his legs began to shake, but he continued. It didn’t feel bad, it didn’t feel bad at all; it was weird and maybe a little wrong, but each time Oishi’s tongue slipped inside of him, each time the heat of Oishi’s hand slicked against him, Eiji felt himself one step further past the point of no return.

Eiji was lost in the moment, lost in the wetness; he didn’t want to be found, not really. Oishi could lose them together here forever.

Oishi spun Eiji around. Eiji’s head fogged from the quick movement; though his eyes were closed he still felt the room spin. He tried to open them. His vision was blurred, everything too bright, too saturated; he closed them.

Only a few seconds had passed, but it seemed like minutes as the air cooled the slickness that covered Eiji’s skin—sweat, saliva, tears, all mingled together and growing cold the longer Oishi kept not touching him.

“Oishi?”

A finger slid down the crack of Eiji’s ass, spread the wet Oishi had tongued over the skin there. Oishi’s tongue teased the head of Eiji’s cock, pressing into the hole that dripped, spreading and lapping and flicking…

“Hah…ah…Oishi. Oishi.” Eiji leaned back onto the counter, his elbows digging painfully into the hard top, him not caring. He pushed his hips forward, pleading with them to help him find the rest of Oishi’s mouth, promising that if they did the reward would be the velvet warmth there.

A steady palm braced against Eiji’s lower abdomen, gently pushing him back. Eiji huffed, his hair fluttering up and off his forehead, only to fall and stick in the sweat at his temples.

Oishi’s finger continued its path, spreading the slick Oishi had left behind, pushing between Eiji’s cheeks, circling and circling, Eiji hummed, trying to pull away. It pushed through, still making small circular motions, and Eiji cried out at the shock more than he did at the pain. Why the circles? The circles, the circles—Eiji felt his head start to roll in the direction of the finger, a slow and agonizing counter-clockwise circle. It pushed deeper and Eiji jerked forward only to be met by Oishi’s mouth.

The same trick; the same _fucking_ trick, but he couldn’t stop himself. While something foreign was happening to his backside, the front felt amazing.

Oishi kept getting better, kept making Eiji _feel_ better, so much more than anything ever, but he couldn’t keep up, couldn’t match the rhythm of Oishi’s finger or tongue. Eiji just kept his own time, pushing back against the finger, feeling it deeper, circling, then plunging forward as far as Oishi’s mouth could take him. He swam and flew and dove and soared; he existed only in this moment, in this time and space, he and Oishi, Oishi and him, and suddenly the circling, the constant circling—oh, but it hit something good. Eiji cried and pumped and Oishi spread him further, another finger, and the pressure intensified, climbed, never quite peaking, but close, so close, then Oishi was mouthing something against Eiji’s hip, kissing the length of Eiji’s cock, licking and breathing on the balls that grew tight and heavy. Oishi’s breath, the breathing, his whispering, crying—”love you…love you…love”—and Eiji felt himself reach for Oishi, those strong shoulders, toned arms, until Eiji felt his body let go of the fingers, Oishi standing upright in front of him, so handsome, so right, so _Oishi_.

Eiji used what little strength he had to wrap his arms around Oishi’s neck. He fell against the pillar before him. Oishi reached his arms around, lifting Eiji up, wrapping the worn out legs around his waist. Eiji leaned into Oishi’s sweat-slicked neck, licked and tasted the salt from Oishi’s efforts, pressing his own body closer to Oishi’s and feeling his cock meet Oishi’s stomach. Eiji locked his fingers together behind Oishi’s neck and leaned back, closed his eyes as he rubbed himself against the skin his body met.

Oishi readjusted, positioning Eiji lower around his hips. Eiji bit back a cry, realizing for the first time that Oishi had been without any clothes this entire time they’d been in the kitchen. At any other point in time Eiji may have spent more than two seconds on picturing that sight, but as it was—

Oishi’s own hardness grazed against Eiji’s ass, catching between the cheeks. They both stopped breathing.


	11. Chapter 11

The two of them had made it as far as the hallway before Oishi had to rest, propping Eiji against the wall. Neither dared move more than necessary; everything was pressing hot and hard as they breathed heavily together, able to feel the fierce pounding of each other’s heart where their chests met.

“Eiji.” Eiji loved the way Oishi said his name, like it was something sweet, delicate, something worth treasuring. Right now it was a soft caress, Oishi’s breath leaving a moist trail hot across Eiji’s cheek. “We have to get back to my room.”

“Here’s good.” It was a whisper against the hollow of Oishi’s ear, followed by tongue and teeth. Eiji squeezed and grinded, reveled in feeling the full body clench and shiver that worked its way through Oishi, right to the core where Eiji’s cock met the flat of Oishi’s stomach. Oishi’s breath hitched; Eiji swelled.

“I won’t last another minute if you keep that up.” Oishi, the voice of reason, touched his forehead to Eiji’s. “I had it all worked out. If things went badly, I had an apology ready. If things went well…” Oishi tried to shrug, but jostled Eiji in the process; the two of them stilled.

Eiji nodded. “Oishi.” He leaned in, a breathy “I want this,” on his lips a mere second before sucking on Oishi’s lower lip.

“Yeah, me—” Oishi’s eyes closed, his brow furrowed. “Okay…okay. But we do this right.” He tightened his grip around Eiji, hoisted him up higher, and continued down the hall and into his room.

//

“Do this right?” Eiji laughed, eyeing the contents of a bag that Oishi had dumped onto the bed, having deposited Eiji there not a minute before.

Oishi spread everything out, surveying his purchases, counting and arranging. “Just in case things went well for me—us!” The corner of Oishi’s mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. Eiji pretended not to notice.

Eiji picked up the corner of a foil wrapper, 6 more just like it tumbling onto his lap. Half a dozen had been separated, a long strip of them wrapped around the bundle to try and keep them together. Eiji looked up at Oishi who was nervously fiddling with the cap on a bottle that simply read _Wet-R_. It was so like him; so much like Oishi to think something like this through so thoroughly, to be prepared, knowing how carried away Eiji could get, making sure all bases were covered in the event that they made it this far.

One of the foil wrappers ripped between Eiji’s teeth. He pulled the condom out, unraveling and stretching it before Oishi could bother to tell him _no, Eiji, no—not like that, it rolls down and_ …Eiji stretched it too much, the latex snapping out of his hands and sailing across the room. A sheepish grin, another wrapper picked up.

“Give it here.” Oishi plucked the wrapper, opening it quickly with precision, and rolling it down and over him in one smooth move. At Eiji’s questioning look, Oishi bit out a mortified “I practiced.” Eiji fell back onto the bed laughing, legs kicking in the air.

Oishi grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him closer; Eiji’s legs fell apart, sliding up and past either side of Oishi’s hips. Eiji stopped laughing. They stared at each other, unblinking, eyes shining and burning, lips parting, breathing accelerating, hearts pounding. The air crackled.

Eiji leaned back onto the bed and lifted his arms, beckoned to Oishi. When Oishi leaned over him, one hand on either side of Eiji’s face, Eiji grazed his fingertips along the sides of Oishi’s back. The body above him squirmed and Eiji delighted in learning something new. He watched as Oishi closed his eyes against the light tickling that Eiji scattered over the smooth skin. His fingers flitted over and around, tracing muscles, following the lines of Oishi’s body until they slipped lower, around, finding their way to, and wrapping around, the hard length that waited impatiently for his attention.

Oishi cried out and jerked in Eiji’s hand, his eyes wide; he tried to pull away. “Don’t. I don’t know how much longer I can control myself and if you do that—” he trailed off. “There are still things we have to do.”

“What do you think I’m trying to get started here?” And Eiji wiggled himself down the bed until he felt the head of Oishi’s cock push into the center of him. He grit his teeth together as a hiss sounded from Oishi. Oishi lurched back and rolled off the bed, breathing loudly, hands behind his head as he turned his back to the scene on the bed.

“Oi!” Eiji sat up on his elbows.

Oishi ignored him, grabbed and uncapped the bottle of _Wet-R_ and squeezed out a palm’s worth of lube into his hand. “Cold.” He paced a short track as he tried to rub his hands together to warm the gel up; it oozed through his fingers, a glob sliding down his forearm. “Ahh, this…may be too much.” The full length of his erection, hard and heavy, bobbed as he walked, turned, walked, turned. Eiji’s eyes followed the motion, shifting up and down, watching, fixated.

Oishi motioned to Eiji. “Can you, umm, lift your legs up?” He indicated to Eiji’s legs with his elbow as he tried to manage the contents of his hands.

“Lift my—what?”

“I have to prepare you. I don’t want you to get hurt, and I read that first times can be quite—” he stopped, joined Eiji on the bed and looked at him. “Eiji, please listen to me. I have to make this good for you. If we’re hasty…if I make you cry…”

Eiji leaned back, effortlessly rolling backward, feet touching the wall above his head. “Like—ahh! Cold. That’s cold.”

“Sorry, sorry. I hoped it would warm up. Give it a moment.” Oishi’s hands shook as he wiped the lube off his fingers and onto Eij. The puckered skin tightened in reflex at the contact and Oishi carefully watched Eiji for his reactions. The tip of an index finger braced against the flesh; Oishi applied the slightest of pressure, hesitating. The kitchen felt a lifetime ago and he hadn’t thought of anything but feeling Eiji; his only thoughts were of touching forbidden places, being inside of the figure before him, and Oishi was awful for that, for not taking his time, for not thinking, for possibly hurting Eiji, and _god, he didn’t know, didn’t ask_ , but how could he ever forgive himself, how could Eiji forgive him—

“Oishiiii.” Eiji wiggled against the pressure and Oishi snapped back to the present. He pushed deeper until Eiji’s body opened up, wrapping around his finger, letting him slide up to the first knuckle. A muffled cry, then an “I’m okay…I’m okay. Keep going.” Oishi pushed deeper still, the whole of his finger inside of Eiji now. He waited for a reaction; when none came, he continued.

Eiji felt himself opening and closing to Oishi’s ministrations, and while it didn’t feel good yet, not like earlier in the kitchen, it definitely didn’t hurt; a little uncomfortable, yes, but so far not bad. He found himself relaxing as the motion of Oishi’s finger slid in and out of him at a steady pace.

“Don’t tense up; I’m going to try two.” Eiji took a deep breath, released it slowly as he willed himself to relax even further. He felt the pressure, the widening, and it felt like he was being pulled apart but he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. _Relax…relax…._

“Am I hurting you?” Concern in Oishi’s voice. Such a Mother Hen, but this was Oishi and Eiji would do anything and everything for Oishi, including getting past this one moment so that they could continue. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to be stopped. He wanted to be locked together with Oishi, invaded by Oishi; he wanted every part of their bodies and souls joined and everlasting, never dying. It felt so good to admit that, to know that he wasn’t alone, that this could be their forever. Oshi and him.

Eiji nodded, not trusting his voice. There were tears in his eyes, but he couldn’t very well tell Oishi right now that it had more to do with how full his heart felt, how open and wondrous the world and his life seemed, than how he physically felt at that moment. Besides, if he said it hurt then Oishi would stop.

Hot. So hot. Slick and burning, something swirling around him, and _oh_ , Oishi’s mouth; Oishi’s mouth was on him, sucking him in deep as fingers kept pushing inside. Eiji’s hips lifted, met Oishi’s mouth as it came down on top of him. When Eiji pulled back it was met with the thrust of Oishi’s fingers. He felt himself stretch, felt the sting of it, but the attention to his cock distracted him, kept him busy until the sting disappeared.

Oishi, mouth half-full of Eiji, mumbled something about three, and suddenly the stinging returned, but it wasn’t bad; it actually began to feel good, was becoming synonymous with the sucking and pulling, the pleasure and pain twisting into something _more_ , something higher, just outside of his reach. A tingling, fires setting off at every nerve, spreading wild and fast throughout him, until he was boiling and unable to keep still, writhing with purpose against the fingers, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Oishi’s hair and pushing him down until he took Eiji deeper into his mouth. It was good, _so good_ , and Eiji felt something coming, something that scared him by its sheer enormity.

“Oishi…Oishi…” Eiji’s hips bucked. He felt wild, out of control and scared, but Oishi was there. Oishi always protected him, always supported him; and this was amazing, so amazing, but he didn’t know if he could handle it, could handle what was rushing toward and through him, what Oishi was doing to him.

The fingers inside of Eiji curled and Eiji slammed hard into Oishi’s mouth, teeth catching, Eiji swearing. When Oishi let go of him with a wet popping sound Eiji grabbed another fistful of hair in his other hand. “Don’t stop.” Eiji begged, breath hitching on each word. “Oishi, don’t stop.” He thrashed against the pressure inside of him. It was intense, continuously building, and each time the fingers curled they hit something that sent a spark of electricity through him; he could feel it hit low in his stomach and into his balls, making his whole body throb and ache and shake.

Eiji felt Oishi reposition himself, now straddling one of Eiji’s legs with his own. The new angle let Oishi push deeper, as deep as his fingers could reach; the tips of them cupping, slowly dragging lewd gasps from Eiji with each draw. It was agony and bliss wedded together. Oishi repeated the motion, sucking and slurping and pushing, each thrust of his fingers now matched by Oishi rocking his hips in unison against Eiji’s legs.

Feeling Oishi hard against him, fingers inside of him, mouth covering and sucking him, Eiji’s body tightened. The something coming was coming faster, larger—much, much larger—and his whole body rocked to the rhythm of Oishi’s making. Eiji licked his palm and reached beneath Oishi, covered him with his hand so that Oishi was sandwiched between thigh and palm, fucking himself between two disparate parts of Eiji.

“Haaa…” The breath escaped Oishi’s mouth in a sharp cry, head knocked back.

The two of them worked together, eyes focused on each other, mouth’s open, their breathing ragged and desperate. Eiji couldn’t hold back the storm that was brewing and spinning inside of him. He felt it raging, warning, heard himself crying out to Oishi that he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, that it was almost here. The world was narrowing, until only Oishi’s face was in front of him, until all Eiji could feel was Oishi thrusting against him, fingers rubbing inside of him, faster, pressing harder, until all other sounds dimmed and a ringing began. Nothing he’d ever done, or felt, could ever compare, and he wished this moment could last forever, could wrap them together and preserve them here, right now.

He felt the loss of Oishi against his thigh, the fingers twisting inside and then out of him, until something harder pressed into him, filling him up, so hot and thick and reaching further inside of him than before, rocking into him, rocking _him_. Oishi. Oishi was inside of him. His Oishi. _His_. Why had they waited? What were all those Tuesdays, all those months, spent doing when they could have been doing this, being this, loving like this?

Oishi leaned down and into Eiji, slipping his arms beneath and around Eiji’s back, kissing him full on the mouth as he dragged Eiji up and onto his lap. Adjustments for Eiji’s legs were made and Eiji wrapped them around Oishi’s waist, the movement pushing him farther onto Oishi’s cock, so completely full and stretched wide. He grinned as Oishi watched him, the other boy’s eyes clear for the first time in however long, and Eiji took pleasure in watching them cloud back over as he began to move his hips in a circle, feeling Oishi rub deep inside of him.

It itched and tickled, this feeling; and he loved it, loved every second of it, loved having this bit of control and seeing what effect his actions had on Oishi. He wanted more—to do more, see more, feel more. Eiji hugged Oishi to him, nipped at his neck and jaw. “Lay down.” Oishi reclined, allowing Eiji to bring his legs up beneath him until he was able to support himself on top of Oishi.

Eiji placed his palms on Oishi’s chest and began to work. He slid himself slowly up and down, riding and testing, wanting to see how far he could pull away before his body released the cock inside. He continued testing when he found it a delicious sensation to be opened, just the head pushing through then releasing it again; the varied expressions that passed over Oishi’s face being almost as good. He couldn’t maintain it, though; his body kept wanting to rock back faster, bury the hardness deep inside him, grind against it, squeeze it.

Eiji’s hips became erratic, frenzied, and he felt completely out of control. Oishi gripped Eiji’s hips, stilled him, took control of the pace, steadying the rhythm.

“So enthusiastic.” A chuckle came from Oishi’s chest; Eiji felt it through the palms of his hands and the rumbling wrestled its way up through Eiji’s arms. “It’s not time to get carried away just yet,” Oishi continued, lurching forward and pushing Eiji onto his back with enough force that Eiji’s legs swung out from beneath him, feet in the air. Oishi grabbed a leg in each hand, pushed them together. He buried himself deep into Eiji with one long, slow stroke, leaning his chest into Eiji’s legs as he did so.

“You’re—” Eiji gasped as Oishi pulled completely free of him then thrust swiftly back in “—surprisingly level-headed compared to—” another gasp, another swift thrust “—earlier.”

Oishi separated Eiji’s legs, looked at him and winked. “Someone got carried away and cleared the fog. Then I remembered…”

Eiji almost asked what Oishi had remembered, but before he could do that Oishi had wrapped his hand around Eiji’s dick, gliding it up and over the head, thumbing the hole, using the pre-cum as lubricant to slide back down, and Eiji convulsed, his head thrown back, his chest lifting. He whimpered, shook, ready to give everything up for release, but Oishi let go of him, gripping both of Eiji’s hips in his hands, bracing himself as he plunged and pulsed and stole Eiji’s breath.

Eiji reached out and grazed fingers against where the two met, Oishi feeling larger and hotter than Eiji remembered. His arm fell back down and he slid it up until his hand rested on top of his cock. Oishi nodded down at him, telling him to take it, and he did, the skin of his hand a little rough but Eiji past the point of caring.

Eiji pumped, squeezing a tight fist around himself. They stroked and thrust together, matched movement for movement, synchronized.

“Eiji…Eiji…” Oishi’s eyes were unfocused, his jaw clenched; he slammed hard into Eiji—short, quick pumps. His movements hurried, harder, rocking Eiji back and forth with the force of each thrust, Eiji plunging and squeezing his cock, pushing each other higher, threatening to break them, overtake them, never separating them.

Oishi panted, grunted, groaned, called out to Eiji—”Say it, Eiji.” His voice was raspy. “Say my name.”

“Oi—”

Oishi cut him off. “No. Say _my_ name.” Each word rushed, released on an exhale as Oishi thrust harder into Eiji.

“Shuich—” Eiji gasped as Oishi slid completely out of him, bracing the head of his cock and rubbing it against the rim of Eiji’s ass. “—iro.”

Oishi took Eiji’s hand, kissed it, then replaced it with his own around Eiji’s cock. He pumped it fast at the same time as he plunged back into Eiji. Fast, pulsating, thrust, thrusting, and Eiji kept repeating his name, cried it, swallowed it back as they kissed, gnashed teeth.

Eiji cupped Oishi’s face in his hands. “I love you. Shuichiro, I love—”

Oishi convulsed, rocking and pushing into Eiji, squeezing tightly and rubbing, rubbing Eiji’s cock until Eiji followed soon after, the two of them shaking around each other, words of love on their lips, collapsed and worn out.


	12. Epilogue

Every second Tuesday, like clockwork, Oishi would find Eiji in the clubroom, just as he was putting his things back into the cubby designated “Kikumaru.” A forgotten towel always draped around his neck, his hair still slightly damp, Eiji would bounce on the balls of his feet, shuffling items between his bag and the cubby, seemingly unsure of what to keep or take. And on every second Tuesday, like clockwork, Oishi would walk up to where Eiji stood, his chest mere inches from Eiji’s back.

For his part on every second Tuesday, Eiji would pretend he didn’t notice Oishi. From the second Oishi opened the clubroom door, to the moment he sensed the figure behind him, Eiji was aware. The hairs on the nape of his neck would stand alert, vibrating with the sense of urgency to have Oishi near him, next to him, touching him. The anticipation of knowing what would happen cascaded over and through him, which caused Eiji to take a step back into the hard chest behind him.

On Every Second Tuesday prior, the game had been played differently. This particularly Tuesday, however…

“Oishi, will you do me a favor?” Eiji leaned his head back, knowing Oishi’s shoulder would be there to support him.

“Hmm? What kind of favor?”

Eiji reached into his bag, pulled something out and whirled around. He held in front of him a pair of cat ears, presenting them to Oishi.

“What are these?” Oishi took the ears from the outstretched hand.

“My cat ears. I thought you could hold onto them for me for next time!” His eyes went big, sparkling with excitement.

The hairs on the back of Oishi’s neck stood on end, knowing what was coming next but trying anyway. “You’re going to wear them during…next time?”

Eiji laughed, snuggled into Oishi’s chest. “Silly.” He stood back and picked up his bag, tossing it over his shoulder, flinging his towel into the dirty towel bin. “You’re going to wear them.”

“No—wait! Eiji…” Oishi watched Eiji skip out of the clubroom, pretty certain Eiji was grinning ear to ear, a Cheshire in so many ways, and pretty certain he’d wear the damn things anyway. His lip curled in disgust with himself, Oishi half turned at the sound of Eiji’s voice calling out to Echizen, then placed the ears into his bag before zipping it up and slipping his arm through the straps.


End file.
